What an Odd Feeling
by rainbow.leader
Summary: (Michael x Jason fic) Michael finds himself in a cute camp by a lake. But the man there guarding it? Ehhhh, not so cute. Okay maybe just a little...
1. First Meeting

_**A/N -** The beginning of this story is an idea I've seen in multiple Jason x Michael stories. I really didn't want to copy the idea, but it's really the only thing that makes sense to me._

 ***M***

The car crash was nothing to Michael, other than another misfortune in his life. The famed Haddonfield killer expected something like this to happen. It always does. But, he was happy with it. Less work that he had to do to escape. He glanced around the wrecked vehicle, double checking that both the driver and passenger were dead. We don't want any witnesses, now do we?

Michael brushed the dirt off his mechanic suit. He took in his surroundings, taking note of the thick forests on either side of the road. He thought for a moment before choosing to wander into the woods. Myers didn't want to be around if someone happened to pass by and call the police. As much as he _loved_ the thought of brutally murdering any people who would arrive, he didn't want to have to deal with them. He was much too tired from the drugs the doctors administered, which were still slightly in his system. The forest was quiet, only the sound of Michael's muffled breathing and his large work boots hitting the dirt could be heard.

The so-called psycho came to a clearing in the woods. The area looked like what he assumed was a camp, the water of the lake beside it seemed to glitter in the sunlight. Michael saw a sign over near the entrance to the area, which he curiously read. _"Camp Crystal Lake"_ it said. Ah, so it was a camp! Come to think of it.. The name sounded familiar to him. There were a few small cabins lined in a row, they looked beat up and old, he didn't think they've been used in a while. A dim light in one of the cabins caught Michael's eye. Maybe somebody was there after all. The killer slowly made his way over to the cabin, as he got closer to the old building, he saw how bad it really looked. The wood looked rotted, any metals on the building were rusted and falling apart.

He gently pushed open the cabin door, peaking in to make sure nobody was inside. When he was sure it was empty, he entered, shutting the door behind him. Myers was glad to see that the inside of the cabin was a lot more nice than the outside. The walls on the inside didn't look as rotted or fallen apart, the furniture that was placed around wasn't the prettiest, but he was sure they got their respective jobs done well . The cabin was only one floor, but he assumed that it wasn't meant to hold many people anyway. The living room was small and attached to an even smaller kitchen. He raided the kitchen of its largest knife and gripped it tightly in his hand. Michael traveled down the hallway, passing a tiny bathroom with only a toilet, sink, and stand-up shower. At the end of the hall were two bedrooms. They both held decent sized beds, dressers, and nightstands, the essentials for a nice bedroom.

Suddenly, the door of the cabin slammed open. Michael whirled around to see who -or what- it was that came in. An absolute _giant of a man_ stood in the doorway, Myers' breath caught in his throat as he took in the glory that this man was. His eyes widened a little when he saw the weapon the other had. A machete, dripping blood, was held in the giant man's hand, leaving a small puddle of the red substance that collected on the hardwood floor. Michael brought his eyes back up to look at his face, which was covered with an old looking hockey mask, decorated with a few red markings. The man was breathing heavily, Michael thought he looked angry, probably because he barged into his home uninvited. But it's not like he could leave now, this man was basically a brick wall standing in between freedom and death.

After so long of staring at the massive figure, he remembered why this place seemed so familiar. It's that camp from the story his psychiatrist, Dr. Loomis, told him. The one about a little boy who drowned and apparently came back to haunt the camp. Jason was his name. Jason Voorhees. Doing another full-body check of the man standing in front of him, he kindly assumed that this was the famed Jason Voorhees. Jason tilted his head slightly, probably wondering why Michael was just staring at him. Myers hoped that the undead killer understood sign language. He cautiously made motions with his hands to talk to the other killer.

 **/Are you... The killer from that weird story? Jason Voorhees, right?/** The psycho signed. Jason bobbed his head slightly in a nod. Michael was relieved that he could understand sign language. He didn't want to have to use his voice. Myers laughed quietly at himself, thinking about how frustrated his psychiatrist would because of him being so silent. He enjoyed watching the grey-haired man grumble to himself while scratching down who knows what on his notepad.

His eyes met Jason's again for a moment before the undead killer shoved passed Michael, heading to the bathroom. He turned around to face the hallway, hearing the water running in the sink and the tinging from metal hitting a counter top. Michael decided to take the opportunity to leave, swiftly exiting the cabin before the other came back out. He strolled down a dirt path that had multiple different trails attached, he chose the one that looked like it could take him the farthest away from the other man's cabin. He surely thought that he should be dead by now, should've been sliced in half by the machete-wielding killer. He was glad that he wasn't though. Cause somewhere in the back of his mind, he was hoping he would be able to run into Jason again. A smile spread across the psycho's mask-covered face at the thought of seeing the wonderful specimen of a man again.

This was surely going to be interesting.

 ***J***

Jason wished that something interesting would finally happen around here. Something new. Y'know, something other than horny, high teenagers intruding all the time. It's always the same old thing. Kill, kill, kill, and wow, _kill again._ Sometimes he'll go visit his mom and tell her the stories of how he killed each teen, he's always looking for ways to make her proud of him. She listens to him, sometimes even giving him some tips for future murders, which Jason always appreciates and keeps in mind.

Jason was heading back to his cabin after he had killed a small group of teens. When he got to his cabin, he felt like something was... Off... He opened the door way too hard, the door went slamming into the wall. He was startled to see a smaller man in his cabin. The man wore a dark blue mechanic's suit and had a white, emotionless mask covering his head. Something about him reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. The little man was weaponized with a kitchen knife. Jason's grip on his machete tightened out of reflex. He noticed the man's eyes go wide at the sight of his weapon.

The small man just sat there, staring. It was starting to make Jason uncomfortable. He tilted his head at the other, who took a deep breath and began waving his hands at Jason. He was doing sign language.

 **/Are you... The killer from that weird story? Jason Voorhees, right?/** The man signed to him, his hands looked incredibly soft, Jason had the sudden urge to reach out and take hold of them. Jason answered his question with a quick nod. He didn't think his story was odd. How dare he say that? The man's eyes softened, he looked relieved about something. He chuckled to himself, which made Jason a little more uncomfortable. Was he... Checking him out? Okay, he needed to get out of there.

The smaller man made eye contact with him again, then Jason shoved passed him to get to his bathroom. He turned on the sink and placed his machete on the counter. He grabbed an old rag from the towel rack, added soap to it, and scrubbed at the blood covering the blade of his weapon. Soon, the machete blade was looking shiny and new again. He smiled brightly under his mask at his work. Jason tries to keep the machete in as good of shape as he can. It was his mother's, after all. He shut the tap off and tossed the now blood-soaked rag into the tiny laundry basket beside the sink. When he exited the bathroom, he saw that the man in the mechanic suit was no longer there. He frowned, feeling a bit... Sad.. That he didn't stick around. Then again, Jason doesn't think he made the greatest first impression.

He remembered that he didn't ask for the other's name. He knew Jason's, but Jason doesn't know his! He began giving himself trouble for not using proper manners. But it wasn't really his fault. Something about the man with the emotionless mask made him feel something. He wasn't quite sure, but whenever they made eye contact, Jason's heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. He had the desire to give the world to this small man, and he surely wanted to try to do so.

All he can do is hope that the man would come back soon.

1581 words


	2. Then show me, so I can confirm it

***M***

As he walked down the dirt path of Camp Crystal lake, Michael couldn't help but get the feeling that he should go back. He kind of wanted to see Jason again. Finally he's seen someone who is like him, someone who kills like he does, someone who -hopefully- doesn't think he's crazy. Who is Myers to know if this would be the only time he would meet someone who actually would accept him for the things he does? He stopped in his tracks, taking a moment to analyze the decisions he had. He could go back and risk being turned away by Jason, just like everyone else has. Or, he could continue on his small journey that most likely leads to no where important.

Finally the psycho chose to go back to the main camp area. If Jason was going to be the only person on the planet that would accept him, then he was willing to make the sacrifice of trying. He may get rejected, but, it's all worth a shot, he supposed. Michael let out a shaky breath, his heart pounded violently against his chest. Okay, he's ready... He thought.

Michael swiftly made his way back towards Jason's cabin, half hoping he was there and also half hoping he wasn't there. God, he was so nervous. He hated this emotion, it's so new to him. His chest constricting, breathing became difficult, his heart felt like it was going to explode. He was so unused to the sensation of anxiety that he had to stop and take a moment's rest every once and a while. The sound of the leaves brushing softly against each other was calming, Myers payed close attention to the nature, hoping it could distract him from the anxiety that crawled under his skin.

Heavy, distant footsteps caused Michael to snap his attention back to reality. The footsteps drew closer and Myers was searching around for who they belonged to. To his left was a clearing that had small logs placed around a circle of stones. He assumed it was the main camp fire where counselors and campers alike would join together to toast marshmallows and sing camp songs. At his right was a group of trees grown close to each other, preventing the masked man to see the area where the footsteps were coming from. As he turned the corner towards the trees, he came face to face with... Jason! It was Jason! Michael couldn't help but feel excitement at the sight of the other killer . At this very moment, Myers appreciated his mask even more than usual. If he didn't have it on, he was sure Jason would have laughed at the large, goofy grin plastered on his face.

The larger male shifted on his feet, seemly uncomfortable. Michael didn't know what to do, he thought he was prepared, but clearly he wasn't. Finally, the other killer made the first move, his large hands making soft movements, as if he was scared that he might scare Michael away.

 _ **/...I didn't get a chance to ask you your name./**_ Was what he signed. **_/I'm sorry if I came off as rude./_** Michael didn't really know how to respond to the last part. Jason's a killer, why would he care about being rude? Then again, why did Michael care so much about befriending the other?

 **/Michael.../** The smaller male signed back. **/And it's fine. I think I was the rude one anyway, barging into your home like that. I didn't think anyone lived there. My apologies./** Michael gave Jason a warm smile, even though he couldn't see it from under the mask. They sat in silence for a moment, until Jason quickly offered;

 _ **/Would you like to come back to my cabin? Maybe?/**_ Jason laughed an airy laugh. Michael nodded his head a bit too enthusiastically, moving to stand beside the other male. Jason's eyes lit up, he gladly lead the man in the mechanic suit back to his home.

The anxiety that threatened Myers' lungs was quickly replaced with joy. He doesn't know Jason's exact thoughts on him, but at least he doesn't seem to hate him! Michael glanced over at Jason, the undead killer had an almost unnoticeable bounce in his step, was he happy too? A quiet noise escaped Jason's mouth, almost like an excited squeal. Michael snickered, causing Jason to look at him, a questioned look in his eyes.

 **/Nothing./** He signed, he assumed Jason didn't realize he even made a noise. Michael thought it was adorable.

 ***J***

After a few minutes of an awkwardly, silent walk with the smaller killer, they eventually reached Jason's cabin. Jason almost bounced with excitement as he opened his door. The two entered the cabin and Jason shut the door tightly behind them. Michael stood staring at his boots, possibly contemplating if he was required to take them off. Jason lightly tapped his shoulder.

 ** _/You can leave them on./_** He signed. Michael looked up at him with a blank stare. He pointed to the small mans' feet. _**/Your boots? You can leave them on./**_ Michael nodded quickly, tugging the footwear off and setting them neatly by the door.

Jason nodded his head at the couch, hoping Michael would understand that he wanted him to sit down. Thankfully, he did, the smaller killer took a set on the far side of his couch. It wasn't the prettiest thing, but Jason thought it was comfortable enough. He claimed his spot beside Michael, adjusting his body so he was facing the other. At first he just stared at him, the longer he kept his eyes on him the more his heart longed to care for the man in front of him. Michael looked up at Jason, his chocolate brown eyes fixated on him.

 ** _/So, what brings you to Camp Crystal?/_** Jason signed to the other. Michael sighed and closed his eyes for a second before responding.

 **/I was being transferred to another mental institute. But the vehicle crashed, probably because the drivers were complete idiots./** The psycho signed, seemingly frustrated. Jason was curious, he wanted to know more.

 _ **/Mental institute?/**_ He asked. Michael didn't seem to interested in explaining, but he did anyway.

 **/Yes. When I was 6 years old I killed my older sister./** He explained. **/So a bunch'a doctors put me away./** Jason intently listened to Michael as he went on about his home town, the mental institute he was put in, his annoying psychiatrist, and his little sister, Laurie Strode, who he was so motivated to hunt down. Michael's hands moved so quickly that it was getting difficult for Jason to keep up, but he tried his best, he didn't want to interrupt the little psycho during his rant.

Michael finally finished his ranting, he seemed to search Jason's eyes for any sign that he might be second-guessing asking anything. Jason nodded his head slowly, he understood that sudden blow of blood lust, the feeling that you just need to _hurt someone_. He often was out killing people, sometimes because he wanted to, but most of the time because mom told him too. Sometimes he got a rush of joy from hearing the blood curdling screams of his victims. But other times... It kept him awake at night. He almost felt guilty.

 **/What about you? Why are you here?/** Michael signed. Jason tapped his feet on the hardwood floor of the cabin, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

 ** _/I used to go to camp here when I was little.../_** He started. Michael shifted in his seat, possibly to get more comfortable for the story to come. ** _/All the other kids would make fun of me because I was... Different... I'm not very pleasant to look at../_** Jason continued to talk about how he wasn't a very strong swimmer, and how the other boys pushed him into the lake. He had drowned that day. His mother was furious that no counselors were paying attention to the kids, they could have prevented all of this. Pamela took it upon herself to get rid of all the counselors at Camp Crystal... But one of them killed her. Then Jason came back to continue what she had started..

Michael stared at him, a look of sympathy in his eyes.

 **/God, that's... Horrible.. I'm so sorry.../** The shorter of the two signed. **/If I was there I would have stuck up for you.. I mean, I'm sure you aren't that bad looking. Even if you are, that wouldn't matter. You're a kind man and that makes up for anything and everything./** Jason didn't know what to do. The words Michael signed to him made him feel so very special, even if he's heard something like it about a hundred times from his mother. It coming from Michael meant everything to him, the other killer was clearly trying his hardest to make him feel better. Voorhees had the slight feeling that Michael actually felt sympathy for him instead of pity like his mother did, or anyone did, for the matter.

The psycho gently turned Jason's head so he was looking back at him again.

 **/And I'm sure you're absolutely beautiful under your mask../** He signed. Jason's heart fluttered. He

shook his head.

 _ **/I'm not.. Really../**_ Jason's hands moved slowly. He wasn't at all "good looking", in his opinion, and in everyone else's opinions.

 **/Then show me, so I can confirm it./** Michael reached out towards Jason's face, his soft hands brushing against his cheek as he tried to lift the hockey mask away. Jason's hand shot up and firmly held Michael's wrist. He pushed his hand away from him, and shook his head again.

"No..." Jason said, his deep voice scratchy and coarse from the lack of use. Michael's body language turned to something sad. His shoulders slightly more hunched and his free hand was laying in his lap, gripping the kitchen knife he used. Jason released the other's hand, letting in drop and hit the couch. Neither boy said or signed anything, they just sat in even more awkward silence, Jason's eyes fixated on a spot on the floor.

Voorhees heard Michael shift in his seat again, then felt two arms wrap around his chest in a hug. His eyes widened and his heart started beating out of control.

"Sorry.." He heard Michael say, his voice was muffled from the mask, as well as scratchy like his own. Jason carefully went to grab onto one of Michael's hands, but he moved away before he could.

The sun was setting, and Jason figured he didn't want Michael out in the dark on his own, so he let Michael stay in his cabin with him. He showed the other killer to the spare bedroom, the walls were a light brown wood that was rotted in a few spots like the outside of the cabin was. The bed was noisy when Michael sat on it, but that's probably because nobody has slept on it in a while. Jason retreated to his own room, slipping into cozy clothes that he would sleep in, and tucking himself into his own bed. His mother whispered good night to him in his head, and the two killers would soon be overcome by sleep.

1875 words


End file.
